


Feed

by NuclearGers



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Because This Is Not It, Biting, Body Horror, Character Death, Come Eating, Cruelty, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating, Gore, Humiliation, M/M, Mutilation, Oral Sex, Other, Pennywise needs a class in how to be a good friend, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence, dunno if this counts but possibly a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 05:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20791259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearGers/pseuds/NuclearGers
Summary: Pennywise pays its human counterpart a visit one night, but Bob wishes it had just stayed away.





	Feed

**Author's Note:**

> Been a while since I posted anything!  
First time writing for these two and for this fandom. Hope I did okay, and I plan to get a little more practice in with some other small fics I got in mind (though, I'm not sure they'll be as brutal as this one is, ha.)  
Please lemme know if I missed any tags up there, and also, thanks for reading. 🖤

Robert “Bob” Gray stared drunkenly across the d imness and shadows of his room  and into the dirty glass of his wagon’s full-length mirro r, hi s inebriated mind t rying  to comprehend  just  what  it  was  he was  looking at.

What stared back at him was not his own  bloodshot, sleepy eyes , nor his sweaty face still grimy with the faint traces of clumsily-washed grease paint.  Instead , there were two bright, lively blue eyes  looking back at him from inside  a face  still  fully-painte d . It wasn't him in the mirror  \-  it was Pennywise the Dancing Clown! Pennywise, who stood there  tall and upright in the reflection while  Bob himself lay sprawled along the tangled sheets of his bed. 

Bob glared at the mirror with his brows furrowed. He then  pulled the half-empty bottle back up to his face, but only to give it a confused and suspicious squi nt  before lowering it back down and  returning his gaze to the mirror to give it the same treatment. 

He'd changed out of his costume and scrubbed the paint off hours ago, hadn't he? He was certain he had...  but there in the glass stood his jester persona, dressed and painted from head-to-toe in the Dancing Clown getup. 

A shaky hand raised to paw at his face for a moment before drawing back and seeing his fingers were mostly clean save a few scant smudges of white and red. His other hand, already occupied with the bottle, gently knocked and brushed against his chest, and there he felt the thin cloth of his undershirt rather than the fluff and puff of pom poms. The alcohol sloshed and stained the off-white material, material he saw was indeed a dirty white and not a glossy grey.    
  
A frown touched his lips. He gave another look at the liquor, this time almost in accusation. 

Slowly, he sat up and set the bottle down on the dusty floorboards  and  nearly to ppled  it over as he did so. With the grace of a newborn calf, he got himself onto his feet and took a few clumsy steps toward the mirror. 

“Pen… Penny…” He slurred. The reflection gave no response other than continuing to hold its smile. “Hey, Pennywise, what’re you do-” He hiccuped. “D-doin’ here? ‘Thought we took you off ‘while ago?”   
  
The reflection finally moved with a slow blink and a twitch of the lips so slight that Bob would have missed it even if he’d been sober. 

He stopped in front of the mirror, slouched and slack-jawed at the clown staring back at him from behind the glass. 

“Maybe,” He mumbled, “Maybe  s’all a dream...” Those unsteady hands slowly rose back up to his own face and, once more, proceeded to slowly prod and drag their fingertips along his  visage  as they attempted to coax the exhaustion from around his eyes. The sudden movement in the mirror practically  _ yanked  _ that exhaustion out, and Bob found himself wide-awake because of it .

Pennywise’s gloved fingertips had followed the movements of Robert’s own and had risen to touch the face in the glass. To the performer’s mild surprise, the makeup on  Pennywise’s face did not smear or smudge as he rubbed at his cheeks, not even the delicate red lines tracing up to those staring blue eyes. 

A soft huff escaped Robert. 

He gave a little tap on his cheek with his right fingertip. Penny’s did the same. His left fingertip gently tap-tapped his closed eyelid. Once again, the clown followed suit , even matching the uncoordinated sluggishness of the man’s inebriated movements . 

He brought his hands to his mouth now and took his bottom lip between his fingers, giving it a tug downwards  that bared his lower row of teeth. Those gloved hands and that  crimson  lip did the exact same – though, the teeth across from Robert’s were more stained, and, maybe it was just a trick of the dark, but they almost looked... jagged? Like  dirty  broken glass.

Bob paid the teeth little mind, though, more excited by this drunken dream he was getting to play around with. He’d dreamed of his clown before, many, many times, but he never got to see Pennywise like this, never in full view as if the creation was its own person. In dreams, he only ever s een  his dressed-up arms as they passed red balloons to children, or the awkward, molasses-like movements of his hands and feet while they attempted one of his dances. But here, his arms were bare and he was moving fluidly – well, as fluidly as the alcohol would allow, and so was Pennywise as the two of them broke out into a brief, improvised tap dance. 

Drunkenly dreaming or not, he had to admit, it was kind of a relief to be the one  being  entertained for once. 

He nearly lost his footing and stumbled back, a high-pitched giggle bursting from his chest as he caught himself. Pennywise did the same, the reflection’s silliness looking a bit more endearing than that of its counterpart. 

He crept back over to the reflection and stopped in front of it again, closer now, almost nose-to- paint ed-nose. Both figures blinked. Both tilted their heads, once to the left, and again, to the right. Both raised their hands up and brought their fingers down one by one before popping their fists wide open into jolly little jazz hands. Bob’s lips curled into a smile and so did  Pennywise’s . When Bob spoke next, the clown mouthed right along with each and every word. 

“Heh…  thinkin ' I should throw  _ you _ up on that stage wagon instead. Finally get me a few weeks’ vacation,  whaddya think, Pennywise?” Another, smaller giggle tumbled from his mouth and, like before, the clown laughed, too.

But the clown’s smile fell before Bob's own even gave a twitch, and those bright blue eyes dulled as the stare they gave abruptly sent a cold spike of…  _ something  _ up the man’s spine. The left eye, hazy and dim, began to drift a little to the side. Bob could do that with his own eyes, it was a trick he often used to amuse children and repulse adults. But he wasn't doing that now , and the gesture was anything but funny to him in this moment . 

He frowned. 

Gingerly, he raised a hand,  that  frown deepening when his reflection's  own  gloved mitt continued to hang limp at  it s side without budging an inch. He repeated the jazz hand gesture from before but got nothing. 

Something pattered on the wood en floor beneath him and he looked down to see a small, wet circle there in the dust. He started when another pitter-pattering circle followed after, and a third one after that. When he looked up again with further confusion on his face, his nose nearly brushed right against the red one in front of him, and those drifting eyes, no longer blue nor dull, burned into him with glowing yellow that shocked his heart awake and sobered him right up . Bob jolted in surprise and toppled backwards with a yelp, his bare feet tangling in each other to knock him hard onto his ass. 

Those acid eyes rolled and blinked back into focus, and the painted lips beneath them stretched into a smile that bared the jagged, stained teeth from before. A gloved hand lifted now and burst forth into the air of the room as if there were no more glass to hold it back, and it slapped down along the outer frame of the mirror with its twin doing the same a moment later. Next, the clown’s large, white head followed, and soft sounds like the soggy crackle of a dying man’s death-rattle dribbled free from those shiny, drooling lips. The scent of old, rotten vegetation and stagnant water suddenly filled the air with an overwhelming pungency that almost had Bob gagging.    
  
A frightened wail left the performer as the creature pulled itself further out of the mirror in jerky, unnatural movements, limbs crawling over and looping through one another like a spider’s own until its body was finally freed. Bob pedaled wildly in an attempt to shove himself backwards and away from Pennywise, his palms slapping against the floor frantically as his heels dug and kicked.    
  
“N-No-!” He cried.

Pennywise stood to its – _their _– full height with a crack-and-pop chorus of joints before stooping into a bow, its long arms sweeping in a presenting gesture. Its head snapped up with a toothy grin, and something akin to a giggle came from it. When the pseudo-reflection finally spoke, its voice was similar to the one Bob put on for his act, but there was a distortion to it, a clumsy, unpracticed lilt that made goosebumps prickle and rise on Bob’s skin.    
  
“Hiya, Bobby! It’s me, Pennywise, the Dancing Clown!” 

It  shook and wiggled excitedly, jostling the jingle bells in his costume. Bob only whimpered another ‘ _ no _ ’ and continued to push himself back until a clothing trunk set against the wall stopped him in his tracks.  Pennywise’s mouth dipped into a deep, pouty frown, and  it  stood up with an exaggerated huff and crossing of  its  arms. “Bobby! That’s not how f - fff riends treat each other! You’re being  _ very  _ rude!” The clown  shook its  head hard and even spat a little at that last part.

Bob said nothing, throat tight and dry as an empty well ,  b ut his b lue eyes, wide and wet, spoke plenty. 

The sight of the fear and confusion  blooming  in those glossy eyes made the pupils of Pennywise’s own blow big and black until there was only a sliver of orange gold surrounding them. 

Pennywise drew  its  arms up to  its  chest with hands folded forward, and  it  bent  its  body into a slight, awkward squat.  Imitating the pose of a giant bunny rabbit,  it then gave a sudden hop forward .  It  landed with a heavy thud,  its  tiny bells yelping on impact, and Bob jolted backwards against the chest at both the sight and feel of it. His arms flew back and clutched at the old wood as he tried to gather his bearings and get standing up again, but Pennywise was quickly closing in on him with a few more hop-hop-hops. 

Just as Bob found his footing, the clown threw its arms open wide and lunged for the man, trapping him against the chest and floor with a cage made of its gangly limbs. A screech ripped from Bob’s parched throat as he began to wriggle and flail beneath Pennywise, and the beast above him mocked the noise with its mouth open wide in a toothy smile and eyes rolling in its head.   
  
“_AHHH!! AHHH!!_” It screeched right back at him, then feigned another heavy pout and began to blubber. “_Ahhh, __nooo__, no, Pennywise, __nooooo__, __ahhh__!! Get away from __meee__!!_ Is that what you’re thinking, Bobby? Is that what’s racing through that dizzy little head of yours??” 

It grabbed Bob’s head and rattled it hard, dazing the frightened man for a moment an d making him see stars. Despite this, he threw a punch forward , and blind as his aim was the hit  struck true somewhere on the  false  clown's face and knocked the imposter off of him. Bob ducked and scrambled away from the chest and bolted for the door of his wagon, his fingers already outstretched and reaching for the knob. They brushed the tarnished metal, and-

Something wrapped tightly around his ankles and yanked both his feet right out from under him, and before Bob could even gasp in alarm he was flipping forward and slamming hard into the ground. His teeth clicked loud and painfully as his chin bounced off the wood, and the wind flew out of his lungs in a  rushing wheeze . Blackness entered his vision but he was pulled away from it by the pair of gloved hands that had tripped him. 

Bob glanced back over his shoulder , and d espite the dazing of his brain, he knew what he was looking at  and screamed as he saw Pennywise still seated where he'd left  it  but now with arms impossibly-stretched like taff y. ...And those  arms that were pulling the man closer and closer to that fang-wielding smile. He slapped his palms down hard against the floor and dug his nails into the boards, trying to get away but only serving to dredge up splinters that tore into his fingers.

“Please!” he cried, the word cracking as tears started to sting at his eyes and tighten his throat. “Please, God,  _ stop _ , lemme go !”

“ Ohhh , but Bobby, I just want to play a little,” Pennywise said, dragging Bob ever closer. “Don't you want to play? Have a little fun with me? We could have so much  _ f _ _ ff _ _ un _ in here, Bobby…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bob caught a glimpse of the liquor bottle he’d left standing by his bed, and he snatched it up just before it was out of reach. He wheezed as a particularly rough drag yanked him farther back wards , and it was only a moment later that he was in front of Pennywise and being maneuvered onto his back. 

With an angry cry, he gripped the neck of the bottle tightly in his white - knuckled hand and flipped over, arm swinging in a wide arc that finished with the bottle colliding into the clown’s  hu ge, white forehead. The glass shattered  on impact,  and  it  sent  a mix of  shards, liquor, and some of  Bob’s blood raining down on the two of them. Pennywise’s own dark, thick  fluid  simply dribbled upwards, slowly, as if the room had suddenly lost its gravity. 

Bob paid this and the cuts in his hand little mind. All he could focus on was his heart thundering away in his chest and the stunned look on  Pennywise’s face, and when those gold en e yes blinked , he swung the broken glass neck, aiming  for  the jagged edges  to strike  that damn forehead again. 

He was stopped just before the points could make contact when a hand snapped up and caught hold of his wrist . 

The  grip t ightened  until bones began to grin d and ache, and Bob’s fingers released the hunk of glass. The man screamed through gritted teeth when the hold on him didn’t relent, and his jaw snapped open as he was suddenly, painfully lifted up off the floor by his wrist. His toes barely scraped the scratched wooden floor as he wriggled like a hanged-man , his free limbs flying out to strike at the massive clown that was now hauling him across the short distance to his bed. 

Pennywise finally let him go once they’d reached their destination, and Bob was dropped heavily onto the mattress. His other hand flew up to the  sore  wrist that was now blossoming bruises, and he hugged them both tightly to his chest as he rolled over into a fetal position  that  backed  him  up towards the wall  beside the bed . 

His big eyes pleaded up at Pennywise and he whimpered with a shake of his head. The brief burst of animal rage he’d shown only moments ago had seemingly all but vanished, and in its place there now lay a man quivering and on the verge of begging. 

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please, just leave me be. Let me alone ! Y ou-you’ve already hurt me, and I’m  scared ,  ain’t  that enough?

That seemed to only make the clown smile again, and a giggle erupted from between those  decorated  lips. Just as Bob was about to raise his good hand in submission, Pennywise leapt onto the bed and straddled the yelping man, its own hands darting out to grab Bob’s face and mash his cheeks up like a  grandmother  would to a cute child.  It  squeezed Bob’s face and gave it a light jostle back and forth and up and down as  it  spoke .

“ _ Penny, I’m  _ _ scaaaaaared _ _ , Penny,  _ _ pwease _ _ ,  _ _ pwease _ _ quit it,  _ _ weh _ _ _ _ weh _ _ _ _ weh _ _ , boo  _ _ hoo _ !” Its mouth was forced into an exaggerated pout while its tone was mocking and cruel, and its shoulders heaved with fake, whiny sobs that were broken up by a flurry of giggles.

Bob wasn’t laughing. There were tears in his eyes, but he snarled and lashed out again with his palm bashing into the wound his bottle had left on  Pennywise’s forehead. The creature gave a  warped yelp  of pain before p ulling and giving Bob a hard slap across the face. It shook its head with a jingle and a laugh , and  it  grinned down at the rattled man.

“ Robert! ” It clucked its tongue like a disappointed parent. “That wasn’t very nice at all! I thought we were done with that ? ”

Bob struck out at it again with both hands this time, but like earlier with the bottle, his wrists were snatched up before he could land that second blow. They weren’t held nearly as painfully, just enough to prevent the performer from pulling free as his hands were brought up slowly before the jester’s face.

“I think a punishment is in order, yes? Yes.” It looked between both hands, a low, rumbling purr trickling out of its drooling mouth as it eyed their trembling and smelled the copper tang of blood from their cuts and splinters. With a chuckle, it raised Bob’s left hand, the bottle hand, a little higher than its counterpart and made it bounce some as it spoke in a high-pitched voice as if the clown were using a puppet. “ _ No, no, don’t punish us, please!  _ _ Ahhhh _ _ ! _ ” Next, it did the same with Bob’s right hand, but the voice was a tad lower and gruffer. “ _ Shut up, you idiot, you got us into this trouble in the first place! _ ”

Bob watched this with wide eyes and a quivering lip,  wary of  the close proximity of those yellowed teeth to his fingers. He tried to pull his hands free again, but the clown kept him restrained, and his legs weren’t  allowed to do much eithe r with his hips pinned down by the creature’s weight. 

His momentary focus on trying to wriggle free was all Pennywise needed to jolt forward and clamp its teeth around the index and middle fingers of Bob’s left hand, and the needle-sting of those teeth became a full-on burn of pain as small bones were broken and separated and tissue was torn. Pennywise jerked its head back with the two digits tucked behind its teeth, and Bob screamed at the sight of the  raw, red  stumps  now  left behind. He screamed again as he watched that bloody mouth above him chew and swallow his fingers down into its gut.

Pennywise’s tongue darted out to lap up some of the blood coating its lips with a satisfied hiss, then took Bob’s mutilated hand up in the air again and made it yell, “ _ Ahhh _ _ !  _ _ Ahhh _ _ ! My fingers, my fingers, you  _ _ aaate _ _ my fingers,  _ _ ahhh _ _ ! _ ” And with the other hand, “ _ Gee,  _ _ ain’t _ _ I glad that wasn’t me! _ ”

“ You sick  _ fuck _ !” Bob screeched. He thrashed more, as much as his body was allowed, and his feet kicked and tangled in the sheets while he wrenched and shoved with his arms. The gory  nubs  where his fingers had  once  been throbbed with pain, but he had to get away, had to break free before something worse happened to him.

When he couldn’t get out from under Pennywise , he threw his head back against his pillow and shut his eyes tight as he loudly hollered, “ ** _ HEEEELLLLP _ ** !! HELP ME!!” 

There were others close by in their campsites and wagons; his fellow circus members. And though he knew many were either drunk, sleeping, fucking or rehearsing, they still had to be hearing his cries of fear and pain, right? They just had to!  He even saw them milling around before he went into his wagon for the night and they’d been close by and all over!

… Then why was no one coming? Why had no one broken down the wagon door and rushed to his aid , yet? 

Did they leave him?

Was he alone?

Or, was this all just a nasty, terribly realistic dream, and while he was screaming his head off here in his nightmare , his real self was only uttering small mewls and groans ?

He hoped – prayed – that was the case. This couldn’t be real; this couldn’t actually be happening to him . There was no way his happy little dancing clown persona was really on top of him and breaking him, hurting him, baring its teeth as it mocked and shamed him. There was no way it was here and manipulating things so that they were alone and no one would come running for him no matter how loud he wailed. Right?

“ _ Heeellllp _ _ ,  _ _ heeellllp _ _ , I'm scared, help meee-hehehehe! _ ”

With a look of embarrassed anger mixed in with the fright on his face, Bob spat at the clown and hit it square on the chin . The action startled, but i nstead of giving him another slap or taking another finger, Pennywise only darted out its tongue to lap up the act of defiance, drawing the fluid in and savoring it like some sweet nectar. Something glimmered in those yellow eyes, and a low chuckle rolled out after another one of those tongue-clickings. 

“ Hmm~mmm , I wonder what else I could nip at?”

Bob tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat but found himself unable to as something akin to dread started to pool in the pit of his stomach. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him to try calling out for help again, but he couldn’t get his voice to work out more than a broken, “What?”

His wrists were now slammed back and pinned above his head, pressed together so that only one of those horrible hands was holding them now. The other released its  grasp  and slid down along Bob’s arms and over his torso causing the man to arch involuntarily and the beast to snicker. 

Those white fingers moved quickly once they reached Bob’s hips, snapping the suspenders loose and undoing the buttons of his fly with a clumsy fluttering of digits before roughly yanking the performer’s trousers and underwear down to his mid-thighs. It  snickered  as its prey began to struggle again the instant his trousers were touched, and  it d amn near cackled in delight when the dread Bob had been feeling in his stomach became all too evident upon his face.

Pennywise giggled and lurched forward  with  jaws snapping at Bob’s exposed cock , making  the man shove his hips back against the mattress with a pitched  squeal . Drool dribbled and spattered the bare skin as Pennywise did it again and again, faster, closer, until Bob’s thrashing had settled into him just trying to hide his vulnerable crotch away with dips of his hips and awkward maneuvering of his trapped thighs. The clown drew back with another laugh, its eyes bright with glee and hunger. 

Bob sank into the messy sheets as far as the mattress would allow him and he tucked his face against the inside of his arm. His face contorted as fat tears began to slick his cheeks  once more  and a sob jolted his body.

“Pennywise, please... please, stop...”

“Aww,  Bobbyyy ,” the clown cooed. “Don’t be a crybaby, I was only  foolin ’.  Heheh , only f-f-f-f- foolin ' around with ya. Saaayyy, maybe I know a way to make you feel better, mhm?”

Bob didn’t open his eyes, but he shook his head no and whimpered.

Pennywise leaned in to hover over Bob’s groin and slackened its jaw until thick strings of drool slipped out and decorated the flaccid cock there. It stared up at Bob with its wall-eyed gaze, red lips stretching into a smirk as each droplet of slime  fell  onto the man’s penis and made him wince and whine.

Next,  Pennywise’s tongue slithered out, and it dragged the pink tip in a line from the base  of Bob’s balls to his tip, pulling the head into its mouth with a hard suckle before letting it back out with a lewd, wet ‘pop’. Bob’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in a sharp breath, his body awkwardly bowed backwards as his hips thrashed from left to right.

“ Ngh \-  ** NO ** !” He cried, and arched up hard off the bed, jostling Pennywise some which gave him just enough space to slip one leg out from beneath the  monster’s  weight and give  it a  few poor kicks to its chest and face. 

The clown snarled and shook its head, pink spittle flying about, and it released Bob’s wrists so both hands could settle on the man’s calf and squeeze and twist until the bones broke with a sharp, angry snap that pierced the stale air of the room.

Bob’s struggling stopped immediately, and he dropped back to the sheets with a s hrill s hout of pain that withered into deep hisses through his clenched teeth . His freed hands slapped down on the thigh of his freshly-broken leg, and he rolled and moaned at the terrible new ache. 

His hissing and groaning were halted abruptly with a choke as a big hand darted up and gripped his throat. Mouthing a gasp, his hands now flew to the one around his neck and clawed at it, but he didn’t - couldn’t - do much more than that. His sluggishly-bleeding finger stumps stained the white red and left tacky smudges in their wake as they swiped and pushed at it. 

Pennywise throttled Bob a little until the man was seeing double inside of the black edging around his vision. Its eyes glimmered and flashed, and a small growl rumbled out of its throat. “Rrrrobert, that’s no way to treat a friend! Especially a friend who is being so nice to you! What if you hurt me, huh?”

Bob pawed at the clown’s hand, jaw working silently as he tried to suck in his next breath. His eyes were starting to droop and roll back into his head, and his pale face was beginning to tinge blue.

Pennywise stared at him a moment and exhaled in a long, jittery huff. Then, it asked, “Are you ready to behave, Robert? Hmm?” He gave the man’s throat another shake, waking him up enough to nod clumsily and mouth a “ _ yes _ ”.

“ Ngheheheh , good!” The milky fingers pried themselves away from their victim’s throat, and Pennywise scurried back down to Bob’s lap. 

Bob threw his head back with a harsh gasp and his  bu r ning lungs swelled with air . His weakened arms flopped down beside him and  his chest heaved with his panting , some faint color r eturning  to his cheeks now that he was able to breathe.

“Now, where were we, Bobby? Oho! I remember...” 

When Pennywise put its mouth on his cock again, Bob winced but he kept still save for his trembling hands going up to his face to cover his eyes. He whimpered softly when the humid heat of the clown’s mouth began to work at him, clumsily, messily, with globs of spit dribbling along the organ and lower belly. The beast lacked any real skill, sure, but the contact and warmth alone were enough to get the blood rushing, and that sliding, rolling tongue brought the performer to full stiffness. 

Despite his nerves and all the pain inflicted on him, Bob was hard.

His cheeks burned with shame, but he dared not try and push the clown away again. Those teeth were too close to the sensitive length, far too close, and they had already made their presence known with their hard points dragging and jabbing here and there. His whole body shook with coiled tension, his mind running a frantic mantra of ‘ _ he’s  _ _ gonna _ _ bite me again, Penny’s  _ _ gonna _ _ rip it right off o’ me, he’s gonna bite me, bite me, bite me bite me bite- _ ’. 

It was tempted. Gods above, how Pennywise was tempted. The hot flesh in its mouth pulsed with life and dribbled a savory liquid, and the clown’s teeth ached with the urge to sink in and tear it right from those hips. Its own heart raced while saliva was practically pouring out by the bucketful, and every breath of the creature sounded like a choked or giggly growl.

But it couldn’t  feast just yet, not when its prey was still being salted so deliciously by anxious fear. No, it would wait. Just a little while longer...

Pennywise’s tongue dipped into the slit to lap up some of the precum pooling there, and Bob couldn’t help the involuntary buck of his hips, nor could he help the second one they gave as that tongue flickered along the underside of the head. Bob moaned in further shame, but the clown chuckled and purred. 

“Isn’t this fun, Bobby? Aren’t we having so much fun?”  Pennywise didn’t wait for a response. It continued its slobbering and suckling, and even started to hum a disjointed little tune while it worked.

Bob didn’t answer anyway, he couldn’t around the thick lump in his throat. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say other than a tired ‘ _ fuck you _ ’ or ‘ _ go away _ ’. What good would those do? Even a broken bottle to then head hadn’t chased the thing off.

Another long, torturous minute or two passed and Bob’s hips finally lifted off the sheets, taut and bucking as he emptied his release into  Pennywise’s mouth. The clown moaned a happy and hungry noise as it reveled in the tang of the seed on its tongue, making a show of swallowing it down with a jingly shimmy. It ducked down once more to lap up the last of the mess before crawling up the length of Bob’s torso with a satisfied hum. 

“Tasty, tasty,” it murmured, then pried Bob’s shielding hands away from his face. It pinned  its palms down on either side of the man’s head and looked down at him, appreciating what it saw.

Bob’s  skin was hot and sticky with sweat that shone glossy in the dimming lamplight of his wagon , and there were dark bruises and smears of blood adorning the pale flesh . His eyes, blue and bloodshot, were sunken and  large  as they stared off into  the e mpty space somewhere above the  monster' s shoulder. He said nothing, the only sounds coming from him were his panting breaths and a few hitched sobs.

“Oho, Bobby ~ ...” Pennywise cooed softly down at him . It s lid  its hands up to gently cup  Bob’s  cheeks and caress the clammy skin. 

Bob flinched at the touch, but he gave no other signs of acknowledgement. 

“My poor, baby Bobby, so sad,  so oo sad . So scared...” A giggle erupted from  Pennywise’s throat. “And  so _ tasty _ !”

The performer’s cheeks flushed red all over again at that, and he tried to roll into a fetal position before his broken leg and the clown’s hands stopped him. “ Mhgh ...”

Pennywise kept Bob’s face restrained in its hands and it leaned down to press a cold, clumsy, wet kiss to the man’s pink, unwilling lips. Beneath it, Bob whined and tried to shake his head, but the action was almost lazy and the kitten-weak shoves of his hands against the creature’s chest fared him no better. 

The ‘kiss’ didn’t last long, and there was hardly any intimacy to it. Pennywise pulled back with a few strings of spit connecting the pair’s lips, its teeth bared in what looked like an ill attempt at a fond smile. Its thumbs stroked the high cheekbones, the gesture almost gentle, but Bob couldn’t find any comfort in it. He wouldn’t have to; Pennywise sat back and withdrew its hands, and Bob shuddered hard at the relief that lack of touch brought. 

“Please,” He at last managed to rasp out.

“Hmmmnghghhmmmyes, Bobby? ‘Please’, what?”

“Please go. Get-get the fuck away from me.” Bob closed his eyes and swallowed back a sob, but his lips quivered with the effort. Another tear slid down his cheek. 

Something wet and crackling sounded above him, a sound like the tearing of meat, and when Bob opened his eyes, he saw the clown’s face contorting into something horrible, something that spiked his heartrate and caused fresh beads of sweat to break out all over his skin. 

Scarlet lips drew back and revealed fat, pink gums bristling with shards of vicious teeth sprouting forth. The face stretched taut and wide to accommodate the growing mouth, and those burning yellow irises rolled backwards and out of sight. A thrumming growl crept out of that gaping maw and it gripped Bob’s spine like a cold hand.

Bob's breath came rapidly and then a scream tore from his lungs. His eyes were huge and terrified as they watched that face become warped but they couldn’t look away, wouldn’t dare to let that thing out of its sight even as he tried to sit up and scramble backwards despite the shrieks of pain from his wounds.

He wasn’t fast enough. 

Those white gloves darted out and wrapped around his bony shoulders, slamming his body back down into the mattress and pinning him there. He screamed again, loud and broken, but the sound was quickly engulfed in the mouth of Pennywise as it clamped down on either side of performer’s head.

Teeth, so many teeth, dug in, puncturing flesh and bone, and those jaws began to close shut in a vice grip that had a new, fighting strength finding itself again in Bob’s limbs. But the violent thrashing and kicking and beating were all for naught as those jaws only continued to squeeze until solid bone popped and shattered and gave way to the crushing. 

In a burst of blood and gore that  filled the beast’s mouth with an ugly,  brutal  mess , Robert “Bob” Gray’s face caved in. It was then pulled free from the skull it once resided on as Pennywise tossed its head back and swallowed it all down with ravenous gluttony, like a vulture choking down remains. 

Snapping its head forward again, it wore the look of Pennywise once more, no longer contorted into that toothy-mouthed monstrosity – though, now there was far more red painting the white than before. It shuddered and grunted, tongue darting out to lick at the fresh, warm blood while its eyes roved along the twitching, dying body of its victim. 

“So tasty, Bobby...” It said, and distorted sigh tumbled out in another one of those poor attempts at being fond. “I thank you.  Ngheheh , I thank you. Three cheers for Bobby Gray!” 

Its hand patted the moist, red slop where  Bob’s face used to be and drew back stained.  Pennywise’s eyes then drifted back along the cooling body before settling on one of those limp arms. Yet another giggle came out, and then it was descending upon Bob’s shoulder, sharp teeth gnashing and tearing into the meat and bone until it was able to pry the limb from its socket. Once that was done, it leapt off the bed and hauled Bob’s corpse up into its arms and slung it over a shoulder, its free hand snatching the severed limb off the blood-and-sweat-soaked sheets. 

With its mutilated prize in tow, Pennywise headed back for the mirror it had come from while it nibbled into bits of muscle from the arm it held and nuzzled its head against the hip of Bob’s corpse. With one last glance at the quiet wagon room, it stepped in through the glass and disappeared.


End file.
